I want you to know I’m being coerced by my evil webmistress (visions of leather, chains, whips, and spiky shoes) to write this blog. Trish, the webmistress, is actually very angelic: sweet, petite, intelligent, and doesn’t go for the vision in black I’ve given of her—but she does enjoy and wear well those spiky shoes! And she’s right. I need to tell you of my journey as an emerging artist.
I say “emerging” not in the sense of becoming a great artist or one who is going to be well-known, but rather as an artist who is phasing from beginner to competent, amateur to professional, a wannabe to “I am an artist!”. I feel so arrogant when people ask me, “What do you do for a living?” and I answer, "I’m an artist." I don’t feel entitled to say that yet but that’s what I definitely want to be when I grow up.
I technically don’t have a job, I help my husband Scott when he needs it in our business. Scott supports me completely in my endeavor to become a painter and needs me less and less in the office.
It’s a conspiracy! I’m going to have to quit whining and get with it. I am an artist, I paint. I love to paint. And it seems I paint wildlife well.
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